


We Wander On

by thexfilesbabe



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Cancer Arc, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e10 Sein Und Zeit, Episode: s08e021 Existence, Episode: s08e15 DeadAlive, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-I Want To Believe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thexfilesbabe/pseuds/thexfilesbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are all small MSR drabbles from a Tumblr ask box prompt. Enjoy!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The rule for this ask box prompt was that once I received a number I had to include the corresponding line of dialogue into a short drabble. The title of each chapter is the quote I was tasked with including in each piece.

A rhythmic beeping slowly roused her from a restless sleep. She furrowed her brow at the throbbing she felt in her skull before opening her eyes. Vision blurry, she could almost forget where she was. She could almost forget who was laying in the hospital bed in front of her or the fact that she buried him just three months ago, along with her hopes of ever feeling the weight of his arms around her again. She could almost forget the nights she spent soaking her pillow through with tears or the day his shirt stopped smelling like him. She could almost forget the day she smashed every picture frame that encased his face behind its delicate glass, bloodying her knuckles and staining her cheeks with tears. She could almost forget the acidic bite in the back of her throat each time she glimpsed her swollen belly in a mirror. She could almost forget every single day since she let him go to Bellefleur. Almost.

Her eyes focused on Mulder’s prone form, lying still, under a pile of blankets. She watched his chest rise and fall independent of a ventilator. Without the host of whirring and humming machines, the room was much quieter than it had been in days, the only sound being the steady beat of Mulder’s heart on the monitor and his shallow breaths. Scully shifted in the worn hospital chair she had been napping in, rotating the stiff muscles and joints in her neck. She hadn’t left the hospital in 72 hours or changed her clothes in at least 48. Doggett made sure she ate regularly, “If not for you, do it for the little guy,” he would say, with a pointed look at her midsection. She numbly chewed each stale sandwich, bruised apple, and cup of hospital grade red Jello he brought her without protest. She didn’t have the energy for it. Glancing around the room she caught a glimpse of a lunch tray with a note from Doggett attached to it. She allowed a small, melancholy smile tug at the corner of her lips.

Heaving herself out of the sunken cushion of the battered chair, she pushed it closer to Mulder’s bedside. Once settled back into the Scully-shaped indent she had managed to create over the last three days, she hesitantly reached out and took Mulder’s hand in hers. Despite his improving condition, fear wound around her heart, squeezing out all hope and replacing it with the heavy weight of despair. He could very easily be ripped from her life once again. She knew she couldn’t survive it a second time. She wouldn’t want to.

Her right hand tightened its grip around his palm as she moved the other to rest on the back of his hand. She felt her throat tighten as she let her eyes roam across the planes of his face, taking in each foreign scar and bruise. She also allowed herself to take in all that was familiar, his full bottom lip, the mole on his cheek, his thick lashes. Her Mulder is still in there, somewhere, and she has to reach him. She has dreamt countless times of being blessed with the opportunity to speak to him, even just one more time. Now that she has the chance, there are too many thoughts, too many emotions bubbling up and trying to break free from the hidden chest she has locked them in. He may not be conscious, but she has to tell him. About how much she misses him, about their child and how they could raise him together if he would just wake up. About how much she loves him.

“M- Mulder,” her voice comes out as a harsh whisper. Her throat is dry and her tongue is thick, her voice raw with emotion. “Mulder, I need you to listen to me, okay?” She pleads, her voice cracking.

She swallows hard. “I know you hate it when I tell you what to do,” a sad smile plays across her delicate features, “but I need you to, just this once, do exactly as I say. Please.” She pauses, then almost silently, she whispers, “Please…”

Her gaze drifts from where their hands sit, intertwined, up his torso, and finally rests on his battered face. She can almost see his intelligent eyes staring back, challenging her. Removing her left hand from his wrist, she places it on her stomach, feeling their child shift positions within her. She shuts her eyes tight to hold back tears. They fall anyway. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Her tears fall silently upon the sheets as she holds tightly to the loves of her life.


	2. "Kiss me."

He launched himself from the couch, lunging for his desk. He gripped the edge with all his strength, straining his muscles as his knuckles turned white. He lifted its legs off the ground as he jerked it from side to side. Scully immediately rose from her seat in the worn leather armchair near the desk and placed her hand gently on his arm. In his storm of emotions, Scully’s touch seemed to send a lightning bolt coursing through him. He instntly dropped the desk and turned to face her, a look of crazed grief in his eyes.

He raised his hand and pointed his index finger at her, “She was trying to tell me something.” His voice was raw with anger and the second the words had left his lips, his knees began to buckle and he suddenly lacked the strength to hold his body upright. Slowly, he dropped himself onto the edge off the couch, bringing his fist up in one last bout of anger, only to let it limply drop to his lap. He choked out, “She was –,” and trailed off as emotions overcame his ability to speak.

Scully recognized the pain etched in the deep lines on Mulder’s face. She had felt it after her father’s death and again when Melissa was taken from them. An emptiness takes hold of your heart and soon develops into a physical ache within your chest that no words or medication can soothe. Scully remembers imagining that this aching emptiness was like a black hole. Resting posterior to her sternum and superior to her diaphragm where her heart had once resided, it slowly grew. It consumed her lungs as she cried after her father’s funeral while packing for her flight with Mulder. Her sobs had become so violent, it seemed she was incapable of taking in a big enough breath. But what did it matter when her father could no longer breathe. It swallowed her stomach the weeks following Melissa’s death. What was the point in eating if she could never again share a meal and glass of wine with her sister? It leeches everything from you, until you are a husk of yourself, just the shell of who you were before their death. She knows how hard it is to climb out of the black hole that consumes all that you are, but she is also evidence of the fact that it is possible.

She took a few steps forward and knelt before his crumpled body, still lying on the couch. Mulder began whimpering as Scully let her hand rest on his arm, gently stroking her thumb up and down. She could still feel the chill of the autopsy bay that had come to rest in her aching joints, hear the whirring of the Stryker saw, and feel the warm lab report fresh off the printer that confirmed what she had feared all along. Mulder’s mother had committed suicide, and Scully was the only person who could tell him. It broke her heart to see the hope in his eyes when she had walked in his apartment door just five minutes earlier. He was babbling something about how his mother had known important information all along and that was the reason that “they” had carried out her murder. Scully hated herself for having to be another person in the long line of those in Mulder’s life who had caused him pain.

“She was trying to tell you to stop. To stop looking for your sister… She was just trying to take away your pain.” Her voice, heavy with emotion, began to give out.

Tears began streaming down Mulder’s cheeks as he weakly lifted his arm and open hand from his lap and angled his face toward Scully. She reached out her hand and firmly wrapped her fingers around his, pulling his entire body forward, off the couch, and into her waiting arms. He gratefully accepted her embrace, draping his strong arms around her back and resting his head on her shoulder. His body lay slack against hers, and she supported them both, holding him tightly, running her manicured hands up and down his back in soothing caresses. She could feel the shoulder of her collared shirt dampen with his salty tears and felt the silent sobs jolt through his body and into hers. Her right hand wandered up his back and into his hair and she began running her fingers through it, bringing him as close to her as possible.

She continued lazily tracing her hand up and down his back until she felt him lift his head off of her shoulder. He slowly brought his face in front of hers without releasing her from his arms. Their noses were mere inches apart and Scully could feel his hot breath brush against her cheeks as he took in a large breath and exhaled. She allowed herself the smallest of smiles to reassure him that she was not going anywhere. Though every other important person in his life had, she refused to abandon him. Especially now.

Mulder looked as though he wanted to say something, but was struggling to find the words. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, feeling the rough texture of his five o’clock shadow scratch at her palm.

“Kiss me,” he said, breaking the silence. She looked at him for a moment, her expression neutral, unreadable.

“Mulder…,” she warned, shifting here gaze from his eyes to the floor.

“Kiss me,” he repeated, this time softer. She chanced a glance up, meeting his eyes. She saw sorrow there, and anger, but also something else. Something she was having trouble identifying, something that scared her. It was fear.

She moved her idle hand up to his face so she now held it in both hands. Pulling him slightly forward, bridging the small gap that remained between them, she stretched her neck up and pressed her lips to his forehead. After a few moments she removed them but left her hands as she came lowered her head to face him. His eyes were closed, but they fluttered open as a small smile turned the corners of his lips upward.

“Kiss me, Scully,” he whispered. Scully’s eyes scanned his face, searching. Mulder, uncomfortable under her gaze, averted his eyes, thinking he had overstepped, finally asking too much of her. Asking her for something she simply could not give.

Her lips, feather light at first, glanced across his. He almost pulled back in surprise, but stopped himself and leaned in closer, further capturing her lips with his. As they meet for a second time, the kiss deepened. Mulder moved his hands to Scully’s face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She responded in kind by sliding her right hand to gently grip the back of his neck, twining her fingers through his thick hair as her left trailed down his arm and rested on his bicep. The kisses were not urgent or demanding, as Scully had always thought they would be. They were instead gentle and sweet; two people seeking comfort in one another’s embrace.

His hands brushed down her body and landed at her waist, stopping to rest on her hips. Scully tilted her head, searching for a new angle when she felt a tear hit her nose. Immediately, she broke their kiss. Mulder’s eyes shot open, fear in his eyes, thinking she was putting a stop to it, regretting this already. Scully knitted her eyebrows and reached out her hands, brushing the freshly fallen tears from his face. There was a moment of stillness as Scully placed her hands in their previous positions and took a deep breath. Upon her exhale, Scully glanced up and their eyes meet; she leaned in without hesitation and picked up where she left off. These kisses were just as gentle, but somehow changed. This time, she kissed him as if she could absorb his pain by osmosis. Perhaps, if she tried hard enough, she could.


	3. "Marry Me?"

A sharp cry rang through Scully’s apartment, and before Mulder could even offer, she was out of bed and stumbling through the door. He sighed, reaching up to rub at his heavy eyelids. Only three days had passed, yet it felt as if it had been years since he experienced the luxury of a full night’s rest. If he was being honest, it had been years since he had drifted off for more than four hours without his monsters chasing him back to reality on his sad leather couch. It had been years, until Scully had welcomed him into her life, into her bed, into her heart. He turned to look at the rumpled sheets on her side of the bed. Still warm, he reached over and rested his hand where she had been peacefully sleeping just minutes before. A slight ache started to build in his stomach, spreading up into his chest as he recalled the conversation they had that evening. It was a conversation he had been dreading, one he knew was necessary but the mere thought of it had sent fear shooting through him like daggers and brought his heart to the point of breaking. The feeling had not left him since. He feared it never would.

Their discussion earlier that evening had been weighty, but communication had been uncharacteristically direct. There was no need for their unique dialect of masked emotions and doublespeak in which they had both become fluent. Instead, the air was laced with uncertainty, pregnant pauses, and a severe lack of the standard “Mulder, I’m fine.” They had not yelled, but kept their voices low, almost at a whisper. Scully had paced the length of the living room, wearing a hole in the carpet for the duration of their conversation, something Mulder had learned was typical behavior when she felt helpless, scared, and alone. After some time, he could no longer allow her to process her emotions in such close proximity yet completely alone. As she passed him for the thousandth time that evening, he reached out and took her hand in his. She immediately ceased her forward motion and slowly turned to face him. He was sitting on the couch, looking up at her, eyes wet with unshed tears. He gently tugged on her arm and she positioned herself on the edge of the couch and released his hand. Mulder was surprised at the distance she had placed between them. They locked eyes and sat, watching each other, for what felt like hours. Scully’s face was sullen, resigned to her fate of once again being left behind while Mulder’s was etched with regret and self-loathing. After some time, Mulder broke eye contact and reached out to rest his hand on her knee. He met her eyes again.

“I have to go.”

At those words, Scully’s face fell as soft tears began leaving tracks on her cheeks. She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as she could. Mulder felt the tears he had been holding back begin to wet the shoulder of her sweater, rubbing against his cheek as he buried his face in her fiery hair.

The door suddenly creaked and he glanced up as Scully reentered the bedroom. She padded across the cold wooden floor and sank back onto her side of the bed. Mulder pulled up her pillow so she could sit against the headboard next to him. She scooted her body closer to him until they were shoulder to shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand on her waist.

She looked up at him and smiled, that rare, genuine smile of hers he feels blessed to be allowed to glimpse; not everyone is so lucky. He smiled back, kissing her temple as he looked down into the bundle of thick blue blankets she held in her arms. She lay her head on his shoulder as Mulder reached out a finger to brush across his son’s face, as if to reassure himself that, yes, he was real. He was real and he was theirs.

“He’s beautiful,” Mulder whispered into Scully’s ear. He could feel her smile and nod against his shoulder.

This was never a place he thought he would reach. Fox Mulder was not the type of man to ever entertain the idea that he could ever have anything resembling a normal life. In his most vulnerable moments, he had found himself thinking about what it would have been like to have the house, the car, the wife, maybe even a few children, sometimes even yearning for the normalcy of it all; but he knew that was never in the cards for him. Besides, for the last seven years, the only woman he could ever see himself embarking on such a domestic adventure with deserved so much more than he could ever offer. In the years they had been together, all he had ever done for her was destroy her chances at the life he knew she wanted and that he could never have. He had caused the murder of her sister, the cancer that had almost killed her, and he had taken from her the chance at having children of her own. How could he ever possibly entertain the idea that she could ever love him in the way he loved her, all-consuming and self-sacrificing. He knew she cared for him, but love? Never. Not after all that he had done to her.

Looking down at the beautiful woman and child he held in his arms, he felt overwhelming contentment, something he had not felt so fully in years, decades even. But, in the back of his mind he knew that just as he was blessed with the things he had never even allowed himself to hope for, he had to leave them behind. His vision began to blur as tears filled his eyes.

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his sleeping son’s forehead and then turned to face Scully and did the same. He loved her and he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to scream, to yell until his face was red hot and his veins had burst. “You can’t take them from me!” He wanted to scream. “They’re mine and you can’t have them! Fuck the truth! They’re mine!” But he didn’t. Instead he pulled Scully closer to him and said, “Marry me?”

Scully lifted her head from his shoulder and twisted so she could look into his face. “Oh, Mulder…,” she sighed, a small, sad smile playing across her lips.

His tears began to fall freely as she laid her head back on his shoulder.


	4. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Her key slid easily into the lock and clicked hollowly as she twisted her hand, forcing the tumblers to shift their position and allow them entrance into the dark apartment. She entered first, pausing to hold the door open with her foot as he shuffled into the room behind her.  
Flicking on the overhead light and depositing her key ring onto an end table, she asked, “Would you like a cup of tea?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to make her way towards the kitchen.

“Wait,” he said, “I can get it.” She eyed him warily. “Take a load off,” he smirked, gesturing to her striped couch.

Mulder lumbered off into her kitchen and she could hear the clanging of the tea kettle and clinking of ceramic mugs. Cupboards opened and shut as he dug through her kitchen for the sachets of tea and the plastic bear full of honey. She smiled to herself, trying to tamp down the annoyance she had been feeling towards his recent foray into chivalry. Let me get the door for you, Scully. Here, let me file those for you, Scully. I’ll do the expense reports, you go get some rest, Scully. At first it seemed sweet, that he cared for her so much. But after a while, being treated with kid gloves was no longer endearing, but frustrating. Everything was different, her family walked on egg shells and coworkers averted their eyes as she walked passed, a trail of whispers followed her through the halls of the Hoover Building. She had hoped that she could rely on her relationship with her partner to remain unaffected by her recent illness. It seemed her hope in this was as vain as her hope of finding a cure.

Holding two steaming mugs, Mulder weaved his way between her furniture and settled next to her on the couch. He reached his arm across the empty space between them awkwardly, handing her the chipped FBI Academy mug he knew she favored. She smirked at his mug choice and took a tentative sip. Steam brushed her cheeks as Earl Grey tea flooded her mouth. Two sugars and a splash of cream, just as she liked. Her smirk grew into a smile as she wrapped her chilled fingers around the center of the mug, allowing the warmth to seep deep into her bones.

She caught his eye, “Thank you.”

“It was really no problem, Scully.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Really, Scully,” he interrupted her. “Don’t worry about it.” He returned her smile and took a sip of his chamomile with a teaspoon of honey. She had started keeping her cupboard stocked with the flowery tea after one evening of scouring through old case files on her couch. He had mentioned it was his preferred flavor, “Right after unsweetened iced tea, of course,” he had explained.

Scully let her eyes wander over his face as he took another long sip and set aside his mug on a coaster. She broke the silence and he met her eyes, “Mulder…you know I appreciate everything you do for me, right?”

He ducked his head and nodded slightly. If Scully didn’t know him better, she might have thought she saw a slight blush rise on his cheeks at her rare verbal expression of gratitude.

She needed to get this out. “Good. Well then, um…I need to say something.” He raised his eyes to meet hers once again, quizzically this time. “I would really appreciate it if…if you quit being so nice to me.”

Mulder physically jerked in reaction to her odd request. What the fuck? He thought. He refined his word choice and said, “Scully, I don’t understand…”

She sighed, not in frustration, but in disappointment. She had thought maybe he would just understand what she was saying, read between the lines, so she would not have to explain this to him. “Mulder, I just…I feel like ever since my…my diagnosis, you have been, um, how do I say this? Much more attentive than before. And I’d like it to stop.”

Mulder felt like Scully had dumped her tea on him and then slapped him in the face. She doesn’t want me to be attentive anymore? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!

“Scully! I haven’t been treating you differently! If making you a mug of tea is now being considered a crime, then –”

“Mulder,” she tried to interrupt, but he continued as if she hadn’t said a thing.

“- put me in cuffs. You know, sometimes I just don’t understand what you want from me! It’s a fucking mug of tea, Scully! You act like I –”

“Mulder!” she yelled. He jerked his head to look at her. Curled up on the other end of the couch, nestled in the corner under a thick, knit blanket, she looked so small. The volume in which she had shouted was surprising due to her sickly appearance. Fiery hair framing a pale, gaunt face; a pantsuit that had recently become about two sizes too big, hanging on her already petite frame like damp clothes on the line, billowing around her. Her skin looked as though it was made of delicate tissue paper, like the slightest breeze could lift her up and blow her away. Far, far away from him.

Silence had settled around them, both of their anger fading into the background as new, more confusing emotions took its place. Scully looked down at her hands, still gripping her scalding mug, and broke the silence.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Mulder pulled his eyes from his own lap, dragging them up to her face. He could see her eyes glistening, tears pooling in them. She wouldn’t let them fall, though, this he knew.

“Like,” she gasped, holding back a sob, “like I’m already dead.”

Mulder’s heart broke. Without thinking, he sat up and scooted his body closer to her. He reached over to her hands and pulled her fingers away from the mug as he took it from and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. Her eyes were still averted, pools of tears dangerously close to overflowing. Mulder looked at her small form for a few, silent moments and then crossed the remaining space between them so they sat with their legs touching, bodies facing each other.

She was working hard at avoiding his gaze, he could tell and he did not care. He reached out once again and took her trembling hands in his firm grasp, wrapping his warm fingers around hers. Ducking his head, he finally forced her to look at him and he saw fear etched in the dark bags under her eyes and the lines between her furrowed brows. When their eyes met she began to fold in on herself, trying to turn away, break free from his hold on her. But, Mulder refused to let her do this alone.

Gently releasing her hands, he moved his right arm to wrap around her shoulder, pulling her to his breast. Her first instinct was to resist his embrace, to shoot off of the couch and lock herself in the bathroom until he decided to leave. But she allowed herself to be pressed against his chest.

After a few moments, Mulder felt her relax herself against him, taking in shaky breaths, still fighting to hold back her tears. He began to rock her back and forth, sliding his hand up and down her back, feeling his throat tighten as he could count each individual rib with each stroke.

“I’m still here,” she whispered into his chest. “I’m still here.” He felt a tear drip onto his shirt, soaking through to dampen his skin. He moved his hand up her back, to rest in her fine hair on the back of her head, bringing her even closer to him. His own tears began to fall.

“I know,” he said. “I know.”


	5. "Wanna dance?"

The sun had lit the world on fire, bringing the day’s temperature to a scorching 107° F. As the sun set, muggy air still hung in the halls of their home. Random pieces of furniture and half-filled boxes were scattered throughout the rooms. Clothes were strewn about what would soon become the master bedroom and piles of medical texts and historical fiction novels lay stacked haphazardly around the cluttered living room. Mulder stood, sweating over an open box that sat on the kitchen table currently located in the narrow hallway until they could move the boxes that currently covered the tiled kitchen floor. As he pawed through the contents of the box, he heard a car crunch up the gravel road. A door slammed, and the gentle flip flop of Scully’s sandals echoed through the house as she made her way up the porch steps and through the open screen door.

“Mulder?” She yelled.

“Right here!” He answered, as he poked his head around the corner of the hall, smiling. His smile broadened as he took in the sight of her. Arms full of brown paper bags overflowing with groceries, she wore cut offs and a blue tank top. Face bare of any trace of makeup, her long hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her shoulders and delicate cheek bones were dusted with new freckles and a light sunburn. She smiled back.

“Hey,” she said as she walked into the kitchen to set down her load of groceries. He trailed behind her, whatever he had been searching for in the box forgotten.

After she had divested herself of the bags of food, she turned around to find Mulder standing right behind her.

“Hi,” he said and stooped to kiss her firmly on the lips.

She smiled into the kiss and broke contact saying, “Well, hello.” They stood there for a few moments, shyly smiling at each other like a pair of teenagers who had just shared their first kiss, until Mulder turned his head to look at the pile of bags that lay on the counter.

“Need any help with those?” He asked, gesturing to the bags.

“There’s a few more out in the trunk. Why don’t you unpack those while I grab the rest?” She walked away before he could answer in the affirmative.

When Scully returned to the kitchen, they put the groceries away together, picking out the best shelf in the fridge for her yogurt and the most convenient cabinet for his Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. They had fun, teasing each other and flirting as paper plates and silverware were unpacked from the final bag and Scully began making them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sitting crisscross applesauce on the living room floor, Mulder and Scully ate their sandwiches and chips. While Mulder got up for two glasses of iced tea, Scully stole half of his Cheetos off his plate and when he returned, Mulder pretended not to notice, smirking to himself as he caught sight of the red stains on her fingertips.

The sun had fully set by the time the two had finished their modest dinner and stars began to puncture the inky sky. Mulder looked out the large bay window in their living room, and without saying a word, reached for Scully’s hand and pulled her to her feet. She smirked at him questioningly, but followed him outside, hearing the screen door slam shut behind them as they walked through the damp grass in the darkness.

They wandered a bit, Mulder leading her around the house through their expansive backyard. As they neared the edge of their property, Mulder stopped walking and looked up into the sky, but did not drop Scully’s hand. She looked up too.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, squeezing his hand.

Mulder drew his eyes away from the twinkling stars and looked down into Scully’s face. A sense of awe washed over him as he took in her presence beside him. This was unbelievable. They had purchased a house together. No longer running, he would wake up in the same bed every morning to her beautiful face and fetid morning breath. He could welcome her each evening as she walked through the door with, “Welcome home, honey.” Because that is what they finally had, after all this time. A home.

His face was serious as she turned her attention to him, sensing his eyes on her.

“Wanna dance?” He asked.

Scully smiled, looking down at their bare feet covered in dew and blades of grass and then met his eyes again. He looked so serious, possibly even scared, she thought as she finally placed the emotion she saw in his eyes. She smiled again sweetly and nodded her head. He pulled her close and began to sway. With a his hands on her hips and her head resting on his chest, they danced to the rhythm of his heartbeat until her soft kisses made him clumsy and they began a difference dance altogether.


	6. "If you keep looking at me like that, we won't make it to a bed."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short follow-up to the previous chapter, "Wanna dance?".

Breaking away from a deep kiss, she was panting, trying to catch her breath as she looked up at him in the moonlight. She could feel the quickened pace of his heart under the hand she had resting on his chest and his erection urgently pressed against her stomach. As he tried to gently pull her mouth back to his, she shook her head, drawing back from him.

His eyes were aflame with raw desire and he wore a confused and urgent look on his face. A small smirk played across her lips. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed,” she said.

“Now, would that be so bad?” He teased.

She rubbed her feet back and forth across the damp grass and said, “I think if we do it out here, I might get wet.” Mulder grinned down at her and opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off by putting her finger to his lips and reaching for his hand.

“C’mon, Mulder,” she said with a breathy laugh as she turned, fingers still twined with his, and pulled him towards the house.

He took the hint, and followed obediently until they reached the front porch. As soon as Scully had pushed open the screen door, he was on her. Hands tangling in her hair, tongue in her mouth, pinning her against the wall, he moaned as she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and scraped her nails up and down his spine. Parting for air, they expertly divested each other of their clothes. They did not make it to a bed that night.


	7. "Come over here and make me."

Scully sat on her couch, her legs folded beneath her. A glass of dry, red wine was held by three manicured fingers while her other hand was busy flipping through the pages of a case file. After skimming the last two pages of the report, Scully shut the file folder with a loud sigh and tossed it into the pile occupying the seat next to her.

“How goes it, Doc?” Mulder asked from his own nest of X Files on the floor.

Scully gave him her best exasperated look. “Not great. I’m making absolutely no progress and it’s frustrating the hell out of me.”

Mulder smiled as that little crinkle between her eyebrows began to form. He wanted to place a gentle kiss on it and smooth it out. And then he wanted to place a not so gentle kiss about six inches lower on those plump, rosy pink lips of hers. His mind began to wander even further, when he was pulled back to reality by the snapping of her fingers.

“Hellooooo. Earth to Mulder,” she called out, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Uh……what?” He stuttered.

“I asked if you could pass me the files we received from the NYPD. I want to give those another look over. Maybe something will jump out at me this time.”

Mulder was about to begin searching for the files she requested when he had an idea. “C’mon, Scully. You’ve gone over those files at least four times tonight. It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. Let’s cut loose! Go clubbing, do shots, get jiggy with it on the dance floor…,” he wiggled his eyebrows and winked at her. She rolled her eyes.

“Mulder…we have work to do. If we don’t have at least something to go on by Monday morning, Skinner is going to…”

He cut her off, “Scully! Live a little.”

She smirked at that and, after considering it for a moment, she said, “I think my days of ‘getting jiggy with it’ are pretty much over, but I could go for a movie and some popcorn.”

“Sounds perfect.” He smiled at her as she set her wine glass on a coaster on the end table and began gathering up stacks of files.

He grabbed the remote control and turned on her television, beginning to flip through the channels, searching for something to watch. He hoped he could find a horror film on one of the movie channels she subscribed to. He hadn’t always been a fan of the genre, but Scully loved them. And, over the years he had discovered that sharing a couch while watching some of the particularly gruesome films was very conducive to blanket sharing, cuddling, and sometimes even hand holding. Now, horror topped the list of his favorite film genres.

Scully was next to him now, kneeling down to pick up the messy piles of folders that surrounded him. He was acutely aware of her presence so close to him, suddenly finding it very difficult to concentrate on the images on the TV screen. He could smell her jasmine perfume as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning over to grab a stray file resting next to his left knee. He chanced a glance away from the television and was rewarded with a bird’s eye view of her breasts. He let his eyes linger, perhaps a moment too long, because when he looked up, their eyes met. Her eyebrows were raised to her hairline, but the ghost of a smirk played across her lips. She continued gathering expense reports and case files from the carpet without a word and walked to the dining room table to deposit half of them in her brief case and the other half in his.

Mulder turned his attention from the way Scully’s hips were swinging in her slacks back to the task of finding a movie. He continued flipping through channels until he came across Planet of the Apes. This film definitely didn’t guarantee him ninety minutes of a jumpy Scully practically falling into his lap with each surprisingly girlish scream, but it was one of his favorite movies, and maybe he would get lucky and she’d get drowsy half way through and rest her head on his shoulder like she sometimes did.

“I think I’m going to put some sweats on. I don’t think I can stand to be in my work clothes for another second,” she called as she breezed by him to her room and shut the door behind her.

Mulder took that as his cue to get up from the floor and start making the popcorn. He rummaged through the cupboard above the microwave, the one he knew she used to house the popcorn. That’s my Scully, he thought. Always so practical. Microwave popcorn above the microwave. Coffee mugs above the coffee maker. Everything had a place in Scully’s kitchen, and as he began hunting for a bowl, he took a moment to appreciate the stark contrast between her pristine kitchen and the crumb covered mess he had back at Hegel Place.

He heard her bedroom door creak open as he began to pour the lightly salted, organic popcorn into a blue plastic bowl. First, he needed to oil the hinges on her bedroom door and secondly, he needed to find a place to hide some better popcorn if they were going to keep watching movies over here. Mulder poked his head out around the corner of the kitchen into the living room, “Want a beer?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, without turning to face him.

He was about to duck back into the kitchen to grab the drinks and popcorn when he caught a glimpse of the TV. “Hey! Scully!” He whined. “What did you do?!”

“Changed the channel,” she answered, nonchalantly.

“C’mon it was Planet of the Apes! I was watching that.” He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he said, “Change it back.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied, without skipping a beat, “Come over here and make me.”

The popcorn forgotten, Mulder grinned as he took three long strides into the room and dove onto the couch, reaching for the remote Scully held in her hands. She let out a squeal of surprise and then burst into laughter as he wrestled the remote from her hand.

He gave her a toothy smile as he stood and retrieved their drinks and popcorn from the kitchen, taking the remote with him. After re-entering the room, he settled himself on the couch and turned to look at her. Holding out his right hand, he offered her the remote.

She gave him a soft, sweet smile and said, “Y’know, I’ve never seen Planet of the Apes.” Taking the remote from his hand, she changed the channel back. Then, slowly, she scooted towards him, so their thighs touched and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I think you’re gonna like it, Scully,” he said, as he draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.


End file.
